Watch Dogs
by Jess Idres
Summary: A conspiracy is afoot in Ankh-Morpork, and the Watch is involved whether they like it or not. But there are things even conspircies won't consider-why? Featuring the Usual Gang of...well, whackjobs. Expect a decent amount of CA.
1. Who Watches the Watchmen

Author's Note: Um, hello. I'm a newbie to the Disc, but I've been devouring the Watch as soon as I discovered it. And being the horrid little fangirl that I am, I got attacked by a nasty little idea, and like the Luggage, it wouldn't leave me alone.

That having been said, I fully admit that I have not read every single Discworld novel, and I'm fully willing to admit that this story has not been Beta'd, so constructive criticism is adored. In fact, being a fangirl, I run off reviews/comments/heck, I could use the flames too, I'm snowed in.

Watch Dogs:

Chapter 1: Who Watches The Watchmen? (apologies to Alan Moore)

There was no light where they met- their eyes were not their primary sense anyway, and they saw just as well in the moonlit streets as they would around a flickering lantern. They didn't speak in soft whispers, as conspirators usual did, for no one but their own could understand. And the only other who could, well, they had made sure she was in a different part of the city.

"She's a shame to our race. Why don't we just kill her? Enough with this cowering in the shadows, we're not vampires." The youngest in the group was showing his impatience.

"Fool. Even if she has deserted, she is of noble blood. And they would know we were here- and they would declare war. No, we must get at her another way. Anyone with a little more between their ears have a way?"

Another one, older than the first, but younger than the leader, cleared their throat. "If we cannot touch her, can we go after one she cares for?"

"Hard. She knows the risks, like any of us. There is only a handful that would drive her out. The old one…"

"-Is untouchable. He knows how to fight against us. And he is too close to the leader. The dwarf?"

"It always keeps silver handy. We may survive, but we could be identified if we're touched. No."

"That leaves her current mate. He is vulnerable."

There was silence in the group as they recalled him. A shiver ran through the older ones, and a rare emotion was felt; fear.

"Strong. Too strong."

"But he fights," snicker "fair. Surely we would have the advantage."

"He's not one of us. Surely we could take a single man?"

"Too much a variable; he may not be alone. And if he survived?"

There was a clamor as they realized what he implied. "No! Do not even think it!"

A quieter one buried their head. "One like that… given our gifts? He would be a monster!"

"Unstoppable."

"A demon…"

The bells marked two hours before dawn. They needed to disperse.

The leader nodded at the group. "We will meet again, soon. But for now, I think we can all agree; Do not touch the traitor's mate. We will deal with her when then the time comes. But we cannot take the chance of letting something like him loose. Understood?" He stared at the younger members of the group.

There a universal nod, albeit reluctantly from some.

All slunk into the shadows, ready to plot anew when the moon rose again.

* * *

The Ankh-Morpork City Watch always had people coming and going from its main office, complaining about this and that, or reporting yet another crime being committed. This wasn't hard; as Commander Samuel Vimes had realized long ago, everyone was guilty of something. Except maybe Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson; the only thing Vimes could really pin on him was Being Naïve Without a Permit.

At the moment, said Captain was sitting quietly at his desk, trying to actually deal with the paperwork that had managed to accumulate in a single day, rather than do as his colleagues did and allow it to turn into compost, dutifully ignored. Last week a rare plant only found in the most nutrient rich soils was discovered growing out of last year budget report on Vimes' desk. It had been promptly killed when this year's report.

The reports were forgotten for a moment when Corporal Angua, who, unlike Carrot, knew how to actually enjoy a day off, shot up from his bed, making a sound not unlike that of a cat hacking up a fur ball. Patting on her back, he waited patiently for her to catch her breath. She leaned on one of his broad shoulders, trying to shake the feeling of terror she had just escaped from.

"It…felt….like someone was walking over my grave. Something bad is happening, I know it." Carrot said nothing, but knew better than to argue with the werewolf. She smiled weakly at him. "Sorry. I'm ok now. What do you want to do today?"

Carrot brightened, and Angua inwardly sighed. If he had been like most men within Ankh- Morpork, they would have probably both stayed right there, enjoying clean sheets and newly oiled mattress springs (Carrot lived in the Watch house, and after a year of Understanding each other, Angua had decided she would not let everyone know when they were acting like the rest of the human race). However, Carrot wasn't like everyone else. Carrot always had a disturbing love of useless knowledge, and managed to find museums and places with Ankh-Morpork that really should have stayed hidden, if she and the rest of Ankh-Morpork had anything to say about it.

Still…she tried ignore the nagging worry that danced up and down her spine. Maybe getting out of the Watch House would be a good thing.

For her, it was as if the Shades echoed with an angry Howl.


	2. Dances with Clues

Tinuviel3- Yay! A review! I feel wuvved. I changed the format of the story for two reasons. One, it just wasn't fitting properly with the storyline in my head, and Second, I finished both Jingo and The Fifth Elephant. Several hints made me realized I need a better set of circumstances to get to the climaxes of the plot.

Please Review! I won't know if I'm doing anything wrong unless you tell me.

I own nothing (Save the Universal Library's Engineer Corps- but they deny it vehemently). PTerry, I apologize, but you deserve for making us poor C/A'ers in the dark the last couple books. And Last Hero was too darn short- I adore Paul Kirby's art, but he always draws Carrot too old IMHO.

Erm. Anyhooo….

Watch Dogs, Chapter 2

Dancing With Clues

Under the shadow of an overhanging parapet, a set of eyes lounged, scanning the trickle of the daylight crowd move down Treacle Street. Nothing seemed to particularly interest them; after several hours they moved off the street, ready to do something more useful, when a person- or two- were caught in its line of sight. They were followed until stone and mortar made even the keenest eyes the slip.

A tail wagged, and the eyes dropped from sight. Their prey continued on, unaware.

---------

Angua had been wrong- her body wouldn't forget the fear that had invaded her dreams, even when she tried to listen to what Carrot was explaining. Obviously it was a personal passion, whatever it was, for he didn't notice her shivering. Then again, Carrot wasn't always known for being incredibly astute all that often. She slipped down into a spare bench, letting him continue without him- not that he noticed. Drawing her knees to her chest, she tried to control her breathing and concentrated on a small brown stain on the floor.

What had scared her so badly? By now she was pretty sure the threat was real- and most likely close by. She breathed through her nose, ignoring the scents of the city and just concentrating on pushing it in and out. She was off duty; she didn't need to worry about the scent of a street merchant (probably CMOT Dibbler, by the rancid smell) ripping off a customer, the slowly disappearing scent of Carrot (bronze polish, honest sweat and the soap she must of left in his room), or that of several men in an argument in the adjacent street, obvious frightened of something-

She blinked at the last one; she'd been around Carrot and Vimes for too long to let something like that drop. True, everyone was probably guilty of something in Ankh Morpork, but this was smell of people plotting a crime that usually led to important people learning the hard way why arrow catching hasn't caught on in most circles. Looking back at Carrot's retreating figure one last time, she shimmied out the window and began to pinpoint the smell. Under the fear, anger and testosterone, there was something familiar, something that set her hackles rising again.

She gripped her nose and scuttled back against the wall. No, no, no; it wasn't possible-why would they be here? Her breath broke through her fingers in ragged heaves; she couldn't let Carrot see her upset. Had she been of sounder mind that last thought would have made her wonder- Why would it matter how he found her? If she told him she was alright, he would believe her; not matter how truly vexed she was underneath.

No. That was a lie, and she would, had she traveled down this line of thought, know that. He just waited for her to bring it up on her own time, on her own terms. It frustrated her, but it was a system that worked, and she could not fault him for it.

But this was a line of thought un-traveled; the reasoning of the hows and whys of the smell of the conspiracy before her nipped at each other rabidly in her mind. Her hand loosened from her nose; unconsciously she let the smells guide her through the events that had taken place behind the Ankh-Morpork Museum of Rebuilding (1). Several had come in from the Shades; their own smells mixed with the underlying rot of the district. Two had just arrived in the city- road dust followed their footprints, and tiredness mixed with faint confusion. Four had sauntered in from the meat packing district- their confidence burned her nostrils. One which had wielded the most control, however, had a distinct smell that had her sinking her own teeth into her palm. He smelled like the Puedopolis Yard Watch House; from the pigeon droppings to the distinct sawdust of the old coach yard. He had been under there noses and she had never known. She barely registered that she had bitten through her own skin.

Carrot, however, did, as he rounded the corner from a side exit. He had noticed as soon as she left, but with the way her feet had shuffled and danced nervously as they had walked over here, had decided she needed some time on her own. However, when he had returned to show her a particularly interesting dissection of the strata of a bank of the river, he found the seat cold and the window opened enough for a body to duck through. He did not have Angua's sense of smell, but her unconscious whimpers had led him out to where she crouched.

She was in a state of panic; her eyes remained unfocused, even as shook a hand in front of her, darting back and forth across the small alleyway she faced. Her middle finger's base was clutched between her teeth, and a dribble of blood was beginning to pool at the base of pinkie. With care, he extracted the hand, carefully wrapping the bite marked with a strip of cloth he carried just in case. A good watch man was a prepared one.

"Ugn…Carrot?" The awareness of the steady pain stopped, her eyes refocused on the large figure blocking the sunlight and replacing the smells of worry with ones she could best described as happiness. Frustration, too, and annoyance on occasion, but his smells were happiness through and through. She hugged his neck and breathed deep at his collar, collecting herself. Some people had mantras to recite or rituals they did to put their thoughts in order. Angua had Carrot-smell.

Carrot blinked, slowly and methodically, before wrapping his arms under her and pulling them both up. Angua dangled for a moment, her feet not touching the cobblestones, before she slid out of his hold and back down to Disc. A sigh escaped as she let her hands slide away from his neck and back down to her sides. "We need to get back to the Watch house. Commander Vimes will want to here about this."

Carrot's eyebrows knit with mild confusion "I agree, the information on the rebuilding sequences of the city would help greatly the next time someone knocks over a candle, but I don't think the Commander…" Angua's eyes belayed that they were talking about two very different things.

"They're here, Carrot, in Ankh-Morpork. Wolfgang's Pack is here- or at least what's left of it." She let herself fall against him, letting the air escape her pursed lips as he processed this. "Wolves never look back, but what you leave behind can sneak in front." I knew it was too good to be true, a bitter voice echoed through her mind.

Their feet guided them back at a stead pace as their minds swam with the threat Uberwald's disgraced might mean; their day off forgotten. Neither knew of the sets of eyes watching them from shadows both above and below.

(1) It burned down quite often- the museum had quite a lot to work with, and that was just from the last century. They had hoped to cover more, but they ran out of room after the 42nd fire at the beginning of the Century of the Fruit Bat. Carrot had thought it better not to complain.


End file.
